It's Good to See You Again
by saturdayslump
Summary: Two months after she leaves the BAU, Hotch runs into Emily in D.C. A little birthday present for Tigerlily888.


**Disclaimer: Indeed, my dears, I do not own Criminal Minds. Such a damn pity.**

**This is for my dear (and smutty) friend Tigerlily888. Happy Birthday, sweet girl! Per your request, here's some formal wear and smut. A perfect way to celebrate (belatedly) your day. Feel better soon! PS I didn't subject this to my usual editing, so apologies for the errors.**

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For the slimmest of moments, Aaron Hotchner thought he was hallucinating. It had been nearly two months since he'd seen Emily, and he'd felt her absence keenly. He'd heard snippets about her from the others, but he hadn't spent time with her himself. When she'd met him the morning after JJ's wedding, Hotch had known she was leaving the BAU. Her decision had been etched all over her face; it was in the tension in her body, the way she worried her lower lip.

"When are you leaving?" he'd asked.

She'd looked at him sharply. "How did you know?"

"Emily. How could I not?"

They'd smiled at one another then, acknowledging the similarities in the horrors of their lives and the bonds that inevitably sprouted out of the seeds of tragedies.

"Is it wrong? Am I being a coward for leaving like this?" she'd asked. He could tell from her tone that her insecurity was making her doubt herself.

"No, Emily. It takes courage to know when it's time to make a change, and even more to actually make the changes necessary. You're not a coward, Em. You never have been, and I seriously doubt you ever could be."

"Thanks, Hotch."

"Do you know what you'll do?"

"Honestly, no," she admitted. "Not knowing kind of scares me."

"Will you accept Clyde's offer?" At her raised eyebrow, Hotch chuckled. "You didn't really expect Reid to keep that to himself, did you?"

"I guess not," she smiled. "I don't know. I don't know that I want to go all the way to London. Honestly, I think I might be a little tired of Europe."

"I can make some inquiries if you'd like, see what might be available for someone with your considerable skills."

"You'd do that?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

In the end, Emily hadn't even left the Bureau. Of course, she wasn't working out of Quantico any more. Instead, in a rather hilariously ironic turn, Emily was in the Hoover Building in D.C. playing politics with the suits in the upper echelons of the FBI. She had accepted an offer to be the liaison between the FBI and its counterparts in other nations. Her gift with languages, ability to fit seamlessly into a number of environments, and her past experience with Interpol had been too much for the FBI to let slip away. Hotch knew from JJ and Garcia that she was traveling quite a bit in her new role, but seemed to be enjoying the new opportunity. According to Morgan and Reid, she had been instrumental in coordinating among several agencies for the capture of a serial killer who had dropped bodies on three continents. He knew she had had dinner with Dave on several occasions and discussed his new book. Dave told Hotch Emily was considering his request to write the forward. But in the two months since she'd transferred, Hotch hadn't had a single personal contact with her. Now, she was here in the ballroom of the Mayflower Hotel.

Hotch dodged his way through the crowd, catching a glimpse of dark hair and an emerald green gown. He saw her snag a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters and head for the terrace doors. Hotch grabbed champagne from the same waiter and followed her out. The air was surprisingly cool for D.C. in June. The heat and mugginess of the day had melted into a cool evening more reminiscent of spring than summer, and although most of the lights of the city overpowered the stars, a few tiny pinpricks of light were visible.

Hotch found Emily leaning against the terrace railing. "Emily?"

At her name, Emily whirled around, the thin material of her dress floating around her before falling perfectly back into place. Her lips spread into a bright grin of recognition even before she turned to him. "Hotch! Oh my god! What are you doing here?" She rushed forward, enveloped him in a firm hug.

Hotch returned the embrace, holding her tightly against him for a moment longer than strictly necessary. Emily didn't seem to mind. When they separated, he took her hands, holding her away from him to get a good look at her. "It's good to see you, Emily. You look lovely." It was true. The dress was made of some kind of floating material that swished in the skirt and the bodice gave a tantalizing display of gleaming white skin. Its deep green complimented that fair skin and she'd left her hair down in loose curls over her shoulders.

She blushed at his compliment. "You look pretty great yourself. I can't believe you're actually in a tux." Dave had insisted that Hotch buy a tux for this event instead of renting one. He'd been so insistent that he'd gotten Jack stirred up about it, and his son had insisted that he needed a tuxedo like James Bond or Tony Stark. So, he'd bought the suit and had it tailored so it molded the contours of his lean frame. He'd even succumbed to the pressure and bought the damn shoes that were currently pinching his toes.

"Thanks. Dave demanded it. Said if I was going to spend the evening with the big boys, I had to look the part," Hotch gave an exaggerated grimace.

Emily grinned again, a lightning fast burst of joy and good humor. "Well, he was certainly right. How did you end up playing politics this evening?" she asked.

"Probably the same way you did. Since the bank, there's been renewed focus on the BAU, and we've gotten a lot of positive media coverage. It's helped our budget, so Strauss is making the most of it and forcing me to make the rounds and schmooze. How about you?"

"Pretty much the same thing," Emily admitted. She turned and leaned against the terrace railing. "It's good to see you, Hotch."

"It's good to see you, too, Emily," he said, turning to mirror her position against the railing. They stood together quietly for a moment, watching the glittering lights inside the ballroom. "So, which of these lucky jerks got the privilege of escorting you this evening?" Hotch asked nodding to the crowd of men in the ballroom. Staring at them from a distance, Hotch noticed they all had a vague, bland similarity. He couldn't imagine a single one of them could actually hold the attention of Emily Prentiss.

Em laughed, "Not a damn one. I may have been forced to attend this little soiree, and yes, the deputy director actually referred to it as a soiree when he ordered my attendance, but there was no way in hell I was going to be trapped for the evening with one of these guys. I would rather have taken my chances with FBI Agent Brad."

"Who?"

Emily laughed, shaking her head at the memory. "I thought I told you about that guy. No one special, just some guy the girls and I ran into not long after I started with the BAU. Sharp suit, too much teeth. He hit on me at the bar, told me he was an FBI agent. I introduced him to JJ and Pen."

Hotch doubled over laughing at the thought of his trio of ladies confronting some loser posing as an FBI agent to lure women in a bar. "How badly did he limp away?"

"The only thing that limped was his ego," Emily laughed with him. "How about you? Is Beth here?"

Hotch's laughter cut off immediately and his smile dimmed. "Uh… well…"

At the obvious discomfort on Hotch's face, Emily's amusement died. "Oh, Hotch, I am so sorry. I didn't know. No one told me."

"I haven't exactly talked about it with anyone."

"The team doesn't know?"

"I'm pretty sure they know. We're profilers, so there's not a lot we can hide from one another, but I haven't said anything point blank to them."

"Why not?"

"Honestly? Because I'm not really broken up about it," Hotch confessed.

"Really?"

"That sounds callous. I don't mean it to be. I liked Beth, she's a kind, smart, funny woman…"

"But?"

"But she doesn't really understand what I do, how it affects me. She knows Aaron who runs in the park and coaches his son's soccer team. She doesn't know Agent Hotchner who runs the BAU, catches serial killers, deals with budget crap, and worries about his agents suffering from burn out, or that he might be headed that way, too."

Emily took his hand, "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," he told her as he linked their fingers. They kept their fingers entwined and sipped their tepid champagne, enjoying the comfort of a likeminded friend. "How are you liking the new job?" he wanted to know.

"More than I expected. I still can't stand all the politics, and chances are they'll fire me because I refuse to play nice, but since real work is actually getting done, I'm happy. How are things at the BAU?"

"About the same. We miss you though. The dynamic's a little off." At Emily's concerned frown, Hotch tugged on her hand. "Hey, don't do that. We're fine, Em. We miss you, that's all."

"I miss you guys, too. It's weird not seeing you all when I come in the office each day. Plus, I'm still having some trouble being in charge."

"What do you mean?"

"It's odd to be the one that everyone looks to for direction. I'm used to taking orders, not giving them."

"Am I really that dictatorial?"

Emily grinned. "No, you give assignments to make sure the bases for each case were covered, but the profiling was always a collaborative effort. We worked together, using our strengths and weaknesses to better understand the people we were after. I don't have that now. Everything depends on the decisions I make. I'm terrified that I'm going to make the wrong one."

"I doubt that you would. Even working within our group, we each took the lead depending on the case and what we needed. You're good at seeing the details as well as the whole picture, Em. You don't miss much, and you're not so rigid that you won't listen to the input of others. It makes the people who work with you trust you. They're lucky to have you as a boss."

"Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it coming from you." They once again lapsed into a comfortable silence. "Have you had to go to many of these things?"

"I've been to a few over the years."

"Are they usually so mind numbingly dull?"

"Most of the ones I've been to have been worse."

"It gets worse than this?"

"Well, I don't usually run into a friend and get to have intelligent conversation."

"God, that sucks."

"Just think, now that you're a boss, you'll have to go to more of these things too," Hotch grinned.

"Well, hell." They laughed together at the thought of the two of them stuck at a series of these awful, tedious events. "So, how much longer before I can get out of here?"

"I've already made the rounds, shaken everyone's hands. How about you?"

"Me, too. So if you're leaving, I can probably head out as well."

"Yeah, I don't think so, Emily. I'm pretty sure they're going to want you to stick around."

Emily glanced over at him sharply. "What? Why?"

"Because you look stunning. They're not going to want the prettiest woman in the room to leave. The horrible dancing portion of the evening is going to start soon, and all the fat fingered old men in there are going to want their chance to dance with you."

The blush of pleasure at Hotch's compliment quickly died away into horror as Emily realized she'd spend the rest of her evening being trapped with boring politicians staring at her cleavage. "Oh, god. I have got to get out of here before someone comes looking for me."

"Did you get anything to eat?"

"Did you see what they're trying to pass off as food in there?"

Hotch laughed again. "Yeah, I didn't either. Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Would you like to grab dinner? I know a good place not far from here. We can sneak out the terrace exit and no one will know we've even left."

"That sounds like a plan."

Abandoning their champagne flutes on the railing and maintaining their grips on one another's hand, the dark haired pair quickly made their way down the stone steps and out the terrace door to the D.C. streets. Despite the fact that Emily was in heels that pushed her nearly to Hotch's height, she kept up with his fast pace as they headed over to the cab stand at the next hotel. Before they could even blink, a valet was holding open the door to an available car and they were escaping from the politicos at the Mayflower. Hotch and Emily breathed loud sighs of relief then laughed at their ridiculous behavior. Hotch gave the driver the address and they headed out, glad to be away from the glad-handing and puffery.

Emily realized she still had hold of Hotch's hand, but decided that it felt too good to give it. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace you'll like. The food is very good, French, and they usually have live music on the weekends."

"Pierre Patton?" Emily asked excitedly.

"Yes. How did you know?" Hotch asked, looking down into her dark eyes.

"It's one of my favorite places in D.C.! How do you know about it?"

"I had dinner there with some friends from law school a few years ago and loved it. I've gone back several times since then."

"I never would have figured you for a French food and jazz type of place," Emily told him.

"Why not?"

"Well, you have to admit, Hotch, you can be a little stuffy."

"What? I am not!"

"Have you ever danced there?"

"No," he admitted.

"See. Stuffy."

"I've never taken a woman there!"

"What does that have to do with it? I'm sure there have been single women there who would have been more than willing to dance with you."

"Um… well, I don't know about that."

"Trust me, Hotch. It could have happened if you'd let or hair down."

"I'm not exactly smooth with the ladies, Emily," he confessed as the cab pulled up to the entrance of the small restaurant. He paid the driver then stepped out of the vehicle and offered her his hand. She took the offered support, placing her hand in his larger one and letting him balance her as she stepped out of the car in the delicate heels.

"I don't know, Hotch. You seem to be doing alright," Emily said, smiling.

Hotch blushed. He was glad it was already full dark and she couldn't see the pink spread up his neck and across his cheeks. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Inside Pierre Patton, the band was already in full swing. Most of the tables were full and there were only one or two seats open at the bar. Hotch hoped they would be able to get a table soon. His stomach was starting to make the most god awful grumble. As they approached the maitre d', the little bald man's face exploded with joy.

"Emily! Comment ça va?"

"Ça va bien, Eduard. Et tu?"

"Ça va. Tu est très belle ce soir, Emily."

"Merci," Emily gave the little man a genuine smile. "Eduard, this is my friend Aaron Hotchner. Hotch, this is Eduard Patton. He and his wife, Jeanne, own the restaurant."

Eduard took Hotch's hand in a grip that belied his small statute and shook vigorously. "Bonsoir! Ah, you have been with us before, yes?"

"Yes, I have."

"I remember, yes. But how do you know Emily? And why have you not brought him before, Emily? It is not right for a man to dine alone when he could have the company of a beautiful woman."

"Hotch is a friend and he used to be my boss, Eduard."

"What has that to do with making him eat solitary meals?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Do you have a table available?"

Eduard grinned and kissed her free hand, "One moment, ma jolie fille, and I will have a table ready for you." The little man slipped away from his station and hurried to set up a table for the elegantly dressed pair.

"Eduard?" Hotch asked.

"I met Eduard and Jeanne in Paris when I was 12. Eduard caught me trying to shoplift a chocolate bar."

"You were shoplifting?" Hotch asked incredulously.

"I've got a checkered past, Agent Hotchner," Emily said with a saucy grin. "I bet you were a boy scout."

"I was… but just because no one actually caught me stealing."

Emily gasped, "You're lying!"

"You'll never know, will you?"

Eduard returned and escorted them into the dining area to a table near the stage. Hotch held out her chair for her before taking his own seat. Eduard handed them menus then quietly disappeared. Neither bothered to open the menus; they'd been to the restaurant enough times to already know what they wanted. Instead, they ignored the other diners who were staring at their immaculate formal wear, and talked while they enjoyed the music. It had been two months since they'd spoken, and they had a lot to catch up on.

Emily made Hotch laugh with tales of dubious international politics and he returned the favor by recounting how Reid's clumsiness caused JJ to end up in an alligator-filled retention pond in South Carolina. He also told her about losing ten years of his life when he walked in on Penelope and Kevin reuniting in Garcia's office. Thankfully, he'd only interrupted a passionate clench, but he was glad he'd decided not to wait to follow up with her on some questions about a case. Another five minutes and he was afraid he would have walked in on quite a bit more. Emily laughed until tears ran down her face at the thought of Hotch interrupting the overly amorous techs.

Over several hours, Hotch and Emily enjoyed an exquisite meal accompanied by a band that flowed from jazz, to swing, and back again. As they relaxed with steaming cups of cappuccino, the band slowed into haunting melody that tickled the back of Hotch's memory. He pushed abruptly back from the table and stood, holding out his hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

"I thought you said you weren't smooth with the ladies," Emily said as put her hand in his.

"I have my moments," Hotch responded as he guided his former subordinate onto the small dance floor.

As they swayed in time to the music, they remembered the last time they'd danced together. The bittersweet moment at JJ's wedding when they'd held each other close, when Emily had decided to leave and Hotch had realized she was going. Neither had said anything, but they'd both known things were on the precipice of a monumental change.

"Why haven't I seen you before now?" Hotch asked.

"What?"

"You've seen everyone else. I know you see JJ and Garcia at least once a week, you've been out with Morgan, had dinner with Dave, and I know you've seen Reid at least once, and talked to him several times."

"Yes," Emily admitted.

"Why haven't I heard from you?"

Emily sighed, almost too softly for him to hear. "I… I don't know."

"I know things weren't always easy between us, Emily."

"Hotch… things have always been… different with us. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I?"

"When I first came to the BAU, you didn't want me there and you made it very clear that I wasn't welcome."

"I know I did. And I was wrong, but I thought we moved past that."

"We did, but it's not just that. Things between us have never easy. I thought, before Foyet, things were getting better. After the John Smith case, I knew I could trust you and I thought that you could trust me… but Foyet changed things again. You were moving on from your divorce. But then Foyet attacked you and you sent Haley and Jack away. You pulled away from all of us. I wasn't sure how to… how to give you what you needed."

"Em, you never had to give me anything."

"That's not the kind of person I am, Hotch. You know that."

"Yeah, I do," he gave her a half smile. "But since Foyet? I thought I had been better since then."

"You were. We were. But then JJ left, and Doyle happened, and you lied to the team to cover for me."

"I had to keep you safe, Em. I thought you understood that."

"I did. I do. But… when I came back, you treated me like I'd never left. Like everything I'd done, everything you'd learned about me, and I know that you learned more than you passed on to the team, meant nothing. You didn't blame me for anything. To you, I was the same person I was the day before I left."

"Emily, I didn't have a reason to blame you for anything."

"You did. I kept things from you. I put you all in danger. The choices I made led you to lie to the people who have to trust you. I damaged that, damaged the team," Emily told him in a rush. "You can't tell me that things weren't different between you and Morgan, you and Reid, hell even you and Garcia. I have never been sorrier about anything. I should have told you before, but I didn't know how. And you… you just welcomed me home. You confronted me about lying to the therapist, but instead of punishing me, you offered to listen if I needed someone to talk to. And I did. And you didn't pass judgment; you didn't tell me it was my fault. You just listened. I hadn't expected to be welcomed back, Hotch. Certainly not by you and not that easily.

Hotch heard the tears, pulled away from her far enough to see them swimming in her dark eyes. He gave her a quick shake then pulled her tight against his chest. "Stop, Emily. Please don't cry."

"I'm not crying," she sniffled against his chest.

Hotch huffed out a little laugh and gave her a quick squeeze. "I don't blame you for anything, Em. You couldn't have told me about Doyle, I knew that. I resented it, but I didn't resent you. And the team healed. Yes, there were bumps, but we worked through them. And I will always be there for you. I was only sorry that it took your returning from the dead for me to make the offer. I never wanted anyone to know the horror of what I went through with Foyet. I knew what you were going through. I could see it. I wish I had known how to say something sooner." Hotch tightened his grip around her waist and ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. They danced a few more minutes in silence. Apparently, the band had shifted into a set of slow songs that kept couples on the dance floor. "What does any of this have to do with you not getting in touch with me after you left the BAU?"

"I wasn't sure with everything that had happened, you would want me to."

"Em, I don't want you out of my life. I miss having a smartass around."

Emily rewarded him with a little, watery laugh. "I didn't want to mess things up for you with Beth either. You seemed happy, and I didn't want to cause any strain on that."

Hotch pulled back from Emily and looked into her dark eyes. There were small wet tracks running from her eyes, but she wasn't crying any more. He reached up and brushed away the remnants of her tears. "Even if I was still seeing Beth, she wouldn't get to dictate who I spend time with, Emily. You're a friend, someone I care about. I wouldn't cut you out of my life like that." Hotch leaned down to kiss a damp spot below her left eye. As his lips lightly brushed her skin, he felt her long lashes flutter against his cheek. He leaned over and pressed a similarly gentle caress below her right eye and felt the quiet release of Emily's breath against his face. She felt so good in his arms, warm and soft and familiar. He tightened his hand on her lower back; the pressure drew her tight against his frame. At the press of her lush curves against his body, Hotch couldn't suppress the quiet groan that escaped his lips.

He looked into her eyes, saw the awareness, the darkening, knew Emily was just as affected as he. Not allowing himself to think, Hotch dipped his head to brush his lips over hers, back and forth until he felt her yield beneath him. Her eyes closed again as she leaned up to deepen the kiss. For another moment, the kiss was easy, light. But Emily changed the angle, opened to Hotch and demanded he reciprocate. At the feel of her fingertips gently stroking his cheek, Hotch pulled back, resting his forehead on hers and struggling to take calming breaths.

"Emily," her name was a sigh, a soft plea. He wasn't sure exactly what he was pleading for beyond the feel of her skin beneath his fingers. "Are you okay with this?" he asked, dreading the possibility that she would say no.

"Yes," she whispered. "Again. More," she said, raising on her toes to align her lips with his. She hummed as his taste rolled across her tongue. "I never expected…"

"What?"

"I never expected that this would feel so… right," she tried to explain. "I was always so careful to guard my feelings, to not let myself fall into the trap of getting involved with someone I worked with. It would have been beyond asinine. But I'm wishing I had let myself imagine a little more."

"A little more?"

"I told you… better than I expected."

"So, you've thought about us… like this?"

"Hotch, you're an attractive, intelligent man that I trust without reservation. Why wouldn't I?"

Aaron just looked at her before a smile brightened his face. "Emily, may I take you home?"

Emily heard the implication behind his request, felt it in the bold stroke of his hand down her back to the top of her ass. She knew she could tell him no, that he might be disappointed, but he'd never hold it against her. But she wanted him. So she smiled coyly. "Yes. I think I'd like that."

Emily had never seen anyone settle a bill so quickly. Hotch had paid for their meal and they were in a cab heading for her apartment in less than four minutes. Nerves danced across her skin, anticipation and excitement, a bit of fear at the step she was taking with one of her closest friends.

"Hotch…"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens…" she trailed off, unsure how to express her concerns.

Hotch understood what she was trying to ask. "I promise, Em."

"You do?"

"Yes. I promise," he said, kissing her fingers.

In the seclusion her apartment, Hotch took Emily's hand. Rather than leading her to the bedroom, he guided her to the living room. He stopped in front of the couch and knelt at Emily's feet, lifting the hem of her gown just high enough to expose her feet to her ankles. He slid off one shoe then the other while Emily used his shoulder for balance. As he stood back up, Hotch took in the full impact of Emily's dress. The gossamer material was delicate and feminine, very appropriate for a night with the political honchos in D.C. But the elegant skirt gave way to a jaw dropping bodice. The green fabric rose over her breasts in parallel panels, exposing generous décolletage as it narrowed to cinched straps at her shoulders. The straps widened again as they plunged down her back to her waist. The dress had no adornment, no beading or flash. The simplicity of the dress only highlighted the magnificence of the body beneath it. As stunning as Emily looked, Hotch was shocked that the men at the Mayflower had let her out of their sight. Although they may have thought it best considering the real possibility that she had a weapon concealed beneath her dress.

Emily returned Hotch's favor, reaching up to unravel his bowtie. When the tails were free, she left them dangling around his collar. With a feather light touch, she unlocked the first few buttons of his formal shirt, revealing a few inches of sculpted torso. Emily brushed her fingers across the exposed skin of his collar bone. Hotch couldn't suppress the shudder her touch elicited. Before she made him lose all control, Hotch took Emily's hand, turning her away from him. Emily expected him to loosen the clasps holding her dress together and was surprised when he pulled her to him and lowered them to the couch. When she found herself sitting on Hotch's lap, facing away from him, her back snuggled to his front and his erection prodding her bottom, Emily was momentarily unsure. She relaxed again when Hotch wrapped his arms around her.

Secure in Hotch's arms, Emily let her head fall back on his shoulder and arched into the glide of his thumbs down the skin of her chest bared by the cut of her gown. She arched again as his open palms slid back to cup her breasts. Hotch's arms criss-crossed Emily's torso, allowing his hands to sneak under the thin layers of material to massage the bounty beneath. He groaned at the feel of her nipples stabbing into his palms and teased the little buds into aching peaks. His lips were equally busy, seeking out all the sensitive places along Emily's neck and shoulder, nipping and kissing at every nerve ending. Emily knew she was losing herself in the onslaught of sensation, felt the loss of control in the helpless undulation of her body in response to his ministrations. When Hotch bit down on the chord of her neck, Emily flew apart as her orgasm hit her. She cried out for him, begging him to stop, pleading for him to continue as wave after wave of pleasure swamped her body.

When she went limp, Aaron gently pulled her out of his lap and seated her on the couch. He smiled at her seemingly bonelessness, enjoying the fact that he'd made her lose any ability to control her own body. Hotch stood and stripped off the fitted tuxedo jacket then the shirt after removing his cufflinks. His belt, socks, and shoes joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Emily watched his partial strip tease through heavy-lidded eyes, reveling in the appearance of his body. Hotch was still fit, toned and trimmed, and the scars littering his skin only enhanced the raw power of his physique.

Without warning, Hotch leaned down and scooped Emily off the couch. She gasped in surprise. Aaron smiled at her as he carried her back to her bedroom. The dimple that popped out in his cheek, so uncharacteristic of such a serious man, caught her attention and she did what she'd wanted to do since the first time she saw it – she ran her finger down the dent before pressing up in his arms to kiss it. Hotch's eyes briefly fluttered closed at her soft caress.

When they reached the bedroom, Hotch closed the door. Emily wasn't sure whether he was closing the world out or trying to close them both in.

"Can you stand?" he asked huskily.

"Yes," she murmured, taken aback by his odd question.

Hotch set her on the floor then turned her away from him again. He raised her arms, placing her hands flat against the door.

"Don't move," he whispered as he took a single small step back.

A bubble of audacity rose unbidden in Emily and before she could think she heard herself say, "Will you spank me if I do?"

Hotch froze behind her, caught by the images Emily's words induced. He swallowed thickly, "Do you want me to?"

Emily groaned at the heat in his voice, "Maybe next time."

"Definitely next time," Hotch murmured, suddenly sure that no matter what happened, there would be a next time for them. Taking the delicate material in his hands, Hotch slowly released the small hooks that ran down the back of the dress. When the last hook was released, the green gown sagged. Hotch dragged the shoulder straps down her arms, pulling Emily away from the door long enough to free her from its confines. He bunched the dress, shoving it away so it billowed down to pool at her feet. And Emily stood before him completely bare.

Hotch gasped at the sight. He'd known she wasn't wearing a bra, the cut of the dress didn't allow it. But he hadn't expected that only Emily was beneath the gown.

"Jesus, Emily," he groaned as he ran his hands up her nude body. "You weren't even wearing underwear."

She arched under his hands, but kept her weight pressed into her hands on the door. "What can I say? I hate VPL."

"I don't know what that is, but I like your attitude toward it," Hotch said as his arms came around her to cup her breasts. "You always manage to surprise me, Em."

"I hope that that's a good thing," she panted.

"It's a very good thing," he told her. Hotch pulled Emily away from the door, turned her to face him then backed her toward the bed. He kept his eyes locked on hers as she tumbled onto the thick mattress. Hotch made to crawl onto the bed with her but Emily held out a hand to stop him.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?" she asked with a devilish grin.

Hotch couldn't help grinning back at her. "Just a bit," he said cheekily. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Hotch unfastened his pants and slowly drew down the zipper. He then stepped out of the tuxedo trousers and tossed them away. Clad in only his boxer briefs, Hotch stood patiently before her.

"Still too many clothes," Emily told him.

Hotch's grin widened and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear. He again kept his eyes locked on hers as he shoved the boxer briefs down his hips and legs. When they were pooled at his feet, he stepped out of them and kicked them away. When he was nude, he didn't look away from Emily's intense stare. He held it until she broke it to drag her eyes down his body. He saw – and appreciated – the quick rise of her brow as her gaze reached his groin.

"You never disappoint, Hotch," she husked, her voice a throaty purr of arousal.

He climbed onto the bed, crawled over her. "Aaron."

"What?"

"I want you to call me Aaron, Emily. When we're like this, I want you to use my name."

"Aaron," she whispered just before his lips captured hers.

They moaned in unison when Hotch eased his body weight onto her. Emily's hands snaked into Hotch hair and gripped hard. Hotch released her lips, freeing himself to move down her body, nipping and kissing the luscious curves. By the time he got to her breasts, Emily was writhing beneath him. He teased and taunted her until she screamed his name and begged for release.

"Please, Aaron!"

"Not yet," he whispered against her breast. "I need more."

"Then for god's sake take it!"

Accepting her demand, Hotch aligned himself with the wet heat of her body and drove himself forward. Emily screamed again as her body yielded to his claim on it; Hotch muffled the exclamation with his mouth, swallowing her cries in a fierce kiss. He was nearly brutal in his possession, providing no quarter, no end to the onslaught. Emily felt the tension coiling in her belly, knew the eruption would happen soon, and tried to fight it off, to draw out the pleasure coursing through her. Of their own volition, her legs rose and wrapped around his waist. Her feet locked against the taut muscles of Aaron's ass, driving him deeper into her. Hotch slid a hand down the smooth slopes of Emily's body, his way eased by a thin sheen of sweat. When he reached her clit, he scissored his fingers, manipulating the bundle of nerves as his hips continued to pound into her.

The new pressure was more than her body could bear, and Emily's orgasm burst through her.

"Aaron!" she shouted in her release. Her body bowed off the bed for a brief moment before going law in exhaustion. Her hands slipped from his hair and her arms rested limply on his shoulders.

Hotch thrust once, twice more before toppling over the precipice of his own orgasm. "Oh, Emily," he whispered before gathering her close. He rolled to his side, tucking her close to him, as he struggled to regain his breath. The pair quickly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the matching beat of their hearts.

Several hours later, Emily stirred. Squashed between her and Aaron's body, her hand had fallen asleep. It was regaining feeling and was wracked with the irritating sensation of pins and needles. Emily flexed her hand, desperately trying to stave off the annoying feeling. Her movements woke Hotch.

"What are you doing?" he asked sleepily.

"My hand fell asleep," she whispered. "Now I've got that weird tingling feeling in my fingers."

"Here," he said, taking her hand. He massaged each digit, restoring blood flow and easing the annoying pain. Emily smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. She kissed the dimple that flickered in his cheek, but pulled back when she felt his body tense.

"Aaron, what's wrong?"

"You're not going to disappear again, are you?"

"What?"

"I don't want it to be another two months before I see you again, Em."

Emily was silent for a few moments, unsure how to explain how she felt. Fear kept her from revealing too much. Instead, she asked, "What do you want, Hotch?"

"I want you. I want to see if there's more than just this between us. Don't get me wrong. This was amazing… but I want more."

"More?"

"I want to be with you, Emily. Not just sex. I want someone to talk to, someone to be with, who knows me and doesn't care about all of my baggage… maybe even loves me in spite of it. I want someone who can make me laugh, someone that I can't wait to see at the end of the day."

"Do you think we could have that?" Emily asked tremulously.

Hotch knew enough about her past to understand her insecurity. He kept his eyes focused on hers, intent on making her see and feel their connection. "I do. When I saw you tonight, I thought, 'There she is.' I was so glad and so relieved. I hadn't realized how much I missed you. But suddenly, there you were, smiling and so happy to see me and that jagged hole I've been carrying around was filled and smoothed over. Do you… do you think you could ever feel that way for me?"

Emily searched his face, her fingertips sweeping slowly across the lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. She swallowed thickly, almost choking on the emotion that rose within her. "I think I already do," she whispered.

Hotch exhaled with relief and jerked Emily against his chest. He grinned hugely before rolling her beneath him and indulging them both in a long kiss. "Thank god. I was afraid I'd have to keep you here to convince you to give it a try."

Emily wrapped her arms around his neck. "I think you should persuade me."

"Well, if I must," Hotch grinned again and gave her another breath-stealing kiss.

* * *

**FIN**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TIGERLILY!**


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